


It Happened When They Were Six

by StarXxCrossed



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Future Fic, Memories, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarXxCrossed/pseuds/StarXxCrossed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It first happened when they were six. That was the first time Brittany and Santana kissed. That's when it all started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happened When They Were Six

It first happened when they were six.

They were playing outside in Brittany’s backyard, as they always did after school. A blanket was laid out underneath the large oak tree, whose branches shaded much of the backyard, and it was littered with a variety of snacks that Brittany’s mom had made.

They would spend the afternoon running around the backyard, playing various games. Some days they played tag, other days they played house. But no matter what they played, they would eventually grow tired and lay on the blanket for a bit, munching away at apple slices and carrots.

So it was no surprise that after a long game of tag, which Brittany won but Santana was too stubborn to admit defeat, they fell to the blanket and grabbed some apple slices.

“I so won, San. You’re just being a sore loser.”

“You didn’t win!”

“Then how come I caught you more times?”

Santana’s face grew into a scowl, trying to gain some time to form a response. Santana never was one for admitting defeat or losing, even when it came to Brittany.

“It’s because your legs are longer. That’s cheating!”

“That’s not cheating, S. That is just the way I am.”

“Maybe you should learn how to shrink.”

“Well, maybe you should learn how to grow.”

Both Brittany and Santana grew quiet. They continued to eat the apple slices and carrots left for them, avoiding eye contact. They ate away until there was nothing left of either food.

Brittany looked at Santana and couldn’t help but notice the girl looked a little upset or hurt. She hadn’t meant to call Santana short, or reference that she should be taller. Santana was insecure about being short. She was almost the shortest person in their class besides Rachel.

Brittany’s gaze eventually followed from Santana to her fingers as her thumbs twiddled together.

“I’m sorry I called you short,” fell from Brittany’s lips.

Santana looked away from the empty food bowls to Brittany. The girl had lifted her gaze from her hands and back to Santana, her blue eyes piercing through her anger. Santana could feel a flutter in her stomach, but she thought it was because she ate too fast, or too much.

“It’s okay, Brittany.”

Brittany could still see a small amount of hurt behind Santana’s eyes.

“You look upset, still. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s fine, Brit. I’ll be okay.”

“You know, when I get hurt, my mommy kisses it better. Like when I fell off my bike and scraped my knee, she kissed it and it didn’t hurt as much. Maybe if I kissed you, you wouldn’t be so upset?”

“But my knee doesn’t hurt.”

Brittany thought for a minute. She knew Santana was hurt, she just didn’t know where. She wasn’t hurt anywhere on her body, it was more her heart was hurt. She didn’t know how to kiss Santana’s heart better.

“Well, sometimes when my mommy is sad, my daddy will kiss her cheek, or her lips. That sometimes makes her feel better. Maybe that would make you feel better?”

“Brittany, only boys and girls kiss like that. We aren’t supposed to kiss like that.”

Santana had learned a long time ago what was right and what was wrong. She came from a religious family and attended church every Sunday. She would listen about how love was only to be represented by a man and a woman, and that no man should lie with another man. She would listen as her father would scoff at the Berrys and state how they were an ‘abomination.’ Santana didn’t see anything wrong. When they would walk down the street, or when she would see them picking up Rachel from school, they looked like a normal family, except there were two daddys instead of a mommy and a daddy.

But her parents told her it was wrong, so she listened.

“So, my nana is a girl and she always kisses me on the lips. It’s really gross.”

Santana smiled a little before her face fell back into a frown. She thought about it. She kissed her mom all the time and she was a girl. That wasn’t wrong, so why was kissing Brittany wrong?

“Okay,” Santana whispered.

“What?”

“You can kiss me.”

Brittany looked into Santana’s eyes, dark brown meeting piercing blue. Brittany looked, waiting for a sure sign it was okay to kiss Santana.

Santana saw her confusion, as well as her silent pleading. She gave a small nod towards Brittany, letting her know it was okay.

Brittany shuffled on her knees, now towering even more over Santana. The dark haired girl followed Brittany and moved to kneel in front of Brittany. They looked at each other once more, making sure the other was okay. When they both nodded, Brittany leaned forward and pressed her lips to Santana’s. It lasted barely a second before Brittany pulled away.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah,” Santana answered as she tried to hide her blush.

They were both sitting in Santana’s room on her bed, mindlessly flipping through magazines. They would gawk over the hot, male celebrities and over new fashion trends. They would ask each other who wore what best and laugh at the various fashion disasters.

Santana was sitting against her headboard, her legs stretched out, while Brittany lay on her back at the end of the bed.

“How to tell if you are a good kisser,” Brittany read the page title.

“Easy, I am an amazing kisser.”

“Yeah and how do you know?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten any complaints,” Santana smirked.

“Maybe they didn’t want to be rude and tell you the truth.”

Since the two had started high school, they had both formed a reputation. With being a part of the Cheerios and being at the top of the school hierarchy, they had ideals to uphold. It wasn’t a surprise that the football team or most of the McKinley guys in general knew who Brittany and Santana were.

“Oh really? Okay, what about you?” Santana questioned.

“That’s easy, I’m awesome. I’ve never had someone tell me I was a bad kisser.”

“ _Maybe they didn’t want to be rude and tell you the truth_ ,” Santana mocked.

Brittany smacked Santana’s leg before manoeuvring herself so she was sitting Indian style, facing Santana. Brittany didn’t miss the smirk that Santana wore on her lips.

“Why don’t we read the tips to see if we are good kissers then?”

“Fine by me,” Santana smiled.

“Okay, tip #1: The way you bite into an apple can tell if you are a good kisser or not.”

“An apple? I am kissing you, not trying to eat your face.”

Brittany chuckled at Santana’s commentary.

“Okay, fine. Tip #2: If you can hold your breath for 30 seconds or more, you are more likely to be a good kisser.”

“What the fuck? We’re not going swimming. Being able to hold your breath does not make you a good kisser, it just means you can hold your breath.”

“Okay then genius, then how does one know if they are a good kisser?”

“By kissing someone who would have the balls to tell the other person if they were a bad kisser of not.”

“And now we’re back to square one.”

Brittany closed the magazine and dropped it beside her. She moved from the end of the bed to sit beside Santana, her back meeting the headboard. She grabbed another magazine from the pile and opened it up, bringing her knees up to get comfortable.

Santana sat beside her, silently thinking about the whole kissing subject. It was not as if it was important, she knew she was a good kisser, but she wondered if Brittany was right. What if she was a bad kisser and nobody had thought to tell her?

Santana turned her head slightly, her eyes falling upon Brittany’s lips. They were smaller than her own, clearly not as plump, but she couldn’t find it in herself to look away. She stared at the pink, gloss covered lips and wanted nothing more than to taste them.

But inside she knew it was wrong to feel like that.

It was wrong to feel these things towards your friend, your very female friend. These feelings were reserved for boys and boyfriends. The butterflies in her stomach, the flutter of her heart and the constant want should only be shared with the various boys of Lima.

So why wasn’t it? Why didn’t she feel any of those things with the boys she kissed or dated? Why did she only feel those things with Brittany?

Her gaze rose from Brittany’s lips to her eyes. The blonde was still flipping through the magazine she had picked up minutes ago. Santana watched as her forehead would crease when she was deep in thought. She watched as her eyebrows moved when she was either confused or excited. She watched as her eyes would light up, and a smile would grace her lips whenever she was happy for excited about something. Santana just sat and watched.

“I can feel you staring,” Brittany voiced.

“S-sorry,” Santana stuttered.

Brittany dropped the magazine in her lap and turned to face Santana.

“Is something up?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Brittany turned her head slightly, raising a questioning eyebrow. Santana sighed and decided to voice her thoughts.

“I’m...I’m just thinking about the kissing thing-”

“Still?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I am just curious now to whether I am actually a good kisser or not.”

“What happen to ‘I’m an awesome kisser’?”

“Well, then you brought up that whole ‘maybe they didn’t want to tell you the truth’ crap and now I don’t know.”

“If I made you doubt your abilities, then maybe you are a bad kisser,” Brittany smirked.

Santana wanted to wipe that smirk off Brittany’s face. She wanted nothing more than to kiss away that smirk. But then again, she also wished she didn’t have that urge. Brittany was straight. Hell, she was straight. So why was the want to attach their lips and run her tongue along Brittany’s bottom lip?

“Just forget about it,” Santana stated as she looked away from Brittany, opening a new magazine.

Brittany watched as Santana flipped through the magazine, wearing a permanent expression of confusion paired with anger. Her forehead creased, her eyebrows pushed together. She could see the dark haired girl biting the inside of her lip, almost as if she was nervous or embarassed.

It was then that Brittany understood what Santana really wanted.

“We could kiss each other. I mean, we both know we’ll be honest with each other. That way we will know if we are good kisser or not.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brit.”

“C’mom, it’s just me. No one has to know.”

Santana looked up from the magazine and met Brittany’s gaze. She could see the blonde almost pleading with her, begging her to agree. And Santana wanted to so bad.

So she gave in.

“Okay, we can kiss. As long as no one finds out.”

Brittany nodded, pushing the stack of magazines on the floor. Santana dropped the magazine in her hand to the floor before turning to face Brittany.

Brittney reached out, cupping Santana’s face in her right hand. Her thumb brushed against Santana’s cheek. She watched her thumb for a moment, memorized by the contrast of caramel and porcelain, before her eyes met Santana’s. She didn’t wait for a nod this time as she leaned forward, firmly pressing their lips together. She felt Santana tense, but she didn’t move away. She waited until she could feel Santana’s lips move against her own, the girl’s hands tangling in her blonde hair.

She angled her head to run a practiced tongue along Santana’s bottom lip. She didn’t miss the small moan emitted from the back of Santana’s throat. Santana parted her lips, allowing Brittany’s tongue to move past them.

Both moaned at the feeling if Brittany’s tongue rolling against Santana’s. The volume of it only increased as Brittany’s hand move from her cheek to her hip, Brittany’s thumb brushing against the bone, allowing Brittany to push deeper into Santana’s mouth.

They both took a deep inhale as Brittany moved to straddle Santana, her hips rolling into Santana’s core. Santana could feel the heat pooling between her legs, feeling the familiar need of wanting to go further.

But she couldn’t.

She broke away from Brittany, pushing the blonde off of her. Brittany landed beside Santana, confused as to why Santana’s mood suddenly flipped.

“I think you should go.”

“San-”

“Britt, please?”

Brittany swallowed the lump in her throat as she grabbed her magazines and Cherrio’s bag before leaving Santana’s room. When the Latina heard the familiar slam of her front door, she let the tears cascade down her cheeks.

Since that time in Santana’s room, making out with each other had become a regular thing. They didn’t talk about what is meant, or why they kept doing, they just let it happen. No strings attached.

The making out had even spread from the confines of their bedrooms to the various audiences at parties. They would use the excuse that they were too drunk, or they would disguise the act with a body shot, but no one seem to mind. It only encouraged the advances of various teenage boys and neither of them denied those advances.

Heated kisses turned into hands slipping beneath shirt hems. It turned into the rolling of nipples between fingers, or a light bite relieved with a roll of a tongue. It turned too hands slipping under waistbands, fingers moving through slick folds. It turned into the curling of fingers and the screams of profanities before the whisper of a name rolled off the tongue.

But they still didn’t talk about it. Not ever.

Not when Brittany is trailing kisses down her toned stomach, watching the muscles ripple. Not as the blonde hooks her fingers in the waistband of Santana’s panties, pulling them down toned, tanned legs. Not as she alternates between open mouth kisses and licking up Santana’s calf and thigh. Not as she places a kiss to Santana’s core, quickly running her tongue through her folds. Not as she circles her clit before pulling it into her mouth, sucking hard and earning a string of ‘ _fucks_ ’ from the dark haired girl. Not as her tongue circles her entrance, dipping inside. That feeling of Santana’s walls constricting her tongue. Not as she alternates between fucking Santana with her tongue and fucking her with her fingers, running her fingers or her tongue over her clit simultaniously. Not as Santana reaches climax, screaming Brittany’s name. Not as Brittany licks up her juices before trailing up Santana’s body to place a kiss to the Latina’s lips.

Not as Brittany says ‘I love you’, and Santana says ‘I love you too.’

They started talking about it. They started talking about it a lot, actually. Well, Brittany talked and Santana listened. She listened when Brittany said there was more between them than Santana thought. She listened when Brittany said it was better with feelings. She listened when Brittany said she was dating Artie. She listened when Brittany told her that if she was ever to break up with Artie, she was so hers; proudly so. She listened when Brittany said Artie called her stupid and they broke up. She listened when Brittany said she loved her more than anything else in the world.

She told her it was better without feelings, even better without eye contact. She cried the night Brittany said she was dating Artie. She told Brittany she wanted to be with her. She cried when Brittany chose not to break up with Artie. She held Brittany as she cried over Artie calling her stupid. She sang to her. She told Brittany that she was her best friend, that had always been true though. She asked Brittany if they were dating and she said yes. She asked if Brittany would be her girlfriend and she said yes a million times and peppered her face with kisses.

Santana is rifling through legal documents in her home office when she feels slender arms circle her shoulders from behind, a kiss being placed to her temple before Brittany nuzzles her cheek against Santana’s.

“Baby, you’ve been at this for hours. Please come to bed.”

“Just five more minutes. I need to find the transcript of the interview for this case I am working on.”

“San,” Brittany whined.

“I promise, babe; five minutes,” Santana placed a quick kiss to her lips before turning back to her files.

“Fine, but just so you know, your wife will be all alone in our big bed...naked,” she winked at Santana before slowly making her way down the hall, pulling off clothing as she walked.

Santana never got over Brittany calling her ‘wife.’ It felt almost as good as when she called her girlfriend or fiancé. _Almost._

She remembered when Brittany proposed. They came home from New York to visit Brittany’s parents for the weekend. They were sitting in the backyard under the old, oak tree, on their old picnic blanket. A plate of apples and carrots was placed on their right as Brittany held Santana in her arms, Santana’s back to Brittany’s front.

They talked about everything and nothing, as they always did. They talked about how they would play for hours in the backyard. How they would play house and they would both be the wife. How they would chase each other in circles during tag, a game that Brittany usually won and Santana was still upset about.

“You had freakishly long legs. I was doomed from the start.”

“You love my legs,” Brittany whispered in the shell of Santana’s ear.

Santana shivered before answering, “I do.”

Brittany chuckled before pulling Santana tighter against her.

“I had my first kiss here, you know?”

“Funny, so did I,” they both smiled.

“The girl was super pretty. She had to most amazing dark hair to match her hypnotizing brown eyes,” Brittany spoke into Santana’s neck.

“My girl was super hot,” Santana smiled.

“San, we were six. You’re disgusting.”

“Who said I was talking about you?” Santana smirked.

“Here I am trying to be nice so I can propose to you, and you have to go ruin the moment.”

“You what!” Santana nearly shouted out of shock.

Brittany slowly pulled the ring box into view in front of Santana. She opened it up, pulling the small diamond ring from its velvet confines, before placing it on Santana’s ring finger.

Santana moved her hand, twisting it to catch the sun’s rays the seeped through the oak tree’s branches. She was mesmerized by the sparkle at every small movement or jerk of her hand int the sunlight.

 “Marry me?” Brittany whispered into Santana’s ear before placing a soft kiss to the shell.

She took Santana pouncing on her and forcibly attaching their lips as a yes.

 


End file.
